Names
by Cherish Elle
Summary: Lily Evans wished for many things in her life—this was not one of them. Of course she loved her husband and of course, eventually, she knew she would want a child to love, as well. Only 'eventually' did not classify to her as 'in the middle of a war'.
1. Names

_**Names**  
_

_For Stranger_

* * *

Lily Evans wished for many things in her life—this was not one of them.

Of course she loved her husband and of course, eventually, she knew she would want a child to love, as well. Only 'eventually' did not classify to her as 'in the middle of a war'.

Really, at a time like this, how could she be thinking about little boys and girls with mops of black hair and bright green eyes, or perhaps redheaded, or perhaps brown-eyed, maybe with glasses or maybe not? The Order was decaying in numbers, their friends were _dying _or otherwise suspected of betrayal and double crossing.

That did not mean that she hadn't actually thought of little boys and girls—_their _little boys and girls.

Even hours after casting the spell, she lay on her bed, her hair spread all over the pillows and her eyes fixated on the ceiling just _thinking _at the possibilities. There were so many what ifs. What if this war had ended? What if it had never existed in the first place?

What if James wouldn't be happy to hear the news?

The last one left a sour taste in her mouth, though one unlike the vomit she had deposited in the toilet as of late. She could feel herself cringe. James wasn't stupid; he too was well aware that firstly, they were in the middle of a war and secondly, they already had more than enough persons to worry about.

When he came back from St. Mungo's, looking worn and tired but still smiling at her and kissing the top of her head, she asked:

"How was your day?"

He answered: "Horrid," and then, "Dumbledore's sent this."

She would tell him the next day.

* * *

In neat writing and located in the back of an overstocked drawer:

- Blair

- Daniel

- Annabelle, encircled

- Helen

- Benjamin, crossed out

- Mary, and in smaller font – unlikely

* * *

Three days later, Sirius, Remus and Peter visited them.

Also three days later, Alice Longbottom announced her pregnancy.

"I pity Frank and Alice," Sirius admitted as they sat around the table, each facing a glass of firewhiskey. Lily hadn't touched hers. "How are they gonna manage with Order business and a kid? Let's not forget to mention Voldemort and the Death Eaters lurking around at every corner?"

"And the risk of either of them being killed in a day's span," Remus gloomily nodded, sipping on his half-empty glass. "I'm not surprised nobody started congratulating them."

James moodily stared at his own glass. "I doubt they'd even want congratulations. Actually, I think Alice was just this close to crying."

"Well I'm sure they're at least sort of happy about it," Peter intervened, gesturing for Sirius to hand the bottle over for a refill. "Even if the timing's horrible. _I'_d be happy, too, I think."

Sirius passed the bottle, but not without an incredulous look. "I think I'd go crazy. I'm pretty sure this is the worst time possible to be having a kid—actually, I think it'd be a service to the kid, not having it," Lily throat tightened and she focused on keeping her gaze glued to her full glass. "Imagine having to grow up in this war."

"You're not honestly going to go to Frank and Alice and tell them 'don't have the kid', are you?" Peter shot back, his eyes widening and his grasp on the bottle almost slackening.

Sirius had the dignity to look insulted. "Of course not. I'm realistic, not tactless. And besides, I'm not in any position to tell Frank and Alice what to do."

"It's their choice," Remus agreed, reaching over to grab the bottle from Peter.

"Pity it's difficult, whatever they'd choose," James finished.

They continued talking about it—advantages, which were few, disadvantages, which were many. Every minute that passed had Lily convinced that however she'd choose telling James about it, he wouldn't be happy. She found herself longing to have spent more time with Alice Longbottom, to ask her 'How did you do it?' or to simply be there for her in the struggle because she _knew. _

At one point, they noticed her silence.

"Something wrong, Lily?" Sirius asked nonchalantly and out of a sudden.

She looked up, startled.

"Not at all. Why?"

"You've been really quiet, and considering that you talk a lot most of the time, that's something to worry about"

Then James: "Are you sure? Do you want me to get you something?" he nudged her glass. "You haven't even touched your Firewhiskey."

"I…" she looked at the four of them. _Definitely not now. _"Have a headache. Bugged me the whole day and I thought it would go away, but it didn't."

Her husband's eyes softened. "Go and lie down. It's getting late, anyway, so we should all be turning in," then he grabbed her hand and led her to the door, "Why didn't you say you weren't feeling well?"

Lily cracked a smile. "It's not wise to interrupt the Marauders during a heated discussion."

Laughing, James pulled her closer and softly pressed his lips to hers, "That, you got right."

She would tell him another day.

* * *

- Blair, crossed out

- Daniel

- Annabelle, encircled

- Helen?, then crossed out

- Jonathan?

- Benjamin, crossed out, then rewritten

- Mary, and in smaller font—unlikely, then crossed out

- Harold

* * *

It was three weeks in and the week before, they had stopped an ambush. Voldemort had been there, and not for the first time of her life, Lily felt her blood cool at the sight of him. There was so much blood, people screaming, corpses, _corpses. _

_Ben and Marlene._

She stood bent over the toilet bowl, wishing for all to end. The retching, the secrets, the tension, the killings, the war.

_The McKinnons are dead, _she remembered, and without one minute left to breathe, she threw up the remaining contents in her stomach.

James found her tired, shuddering and weak, leaning against the bathroom wall. He softly wiped away her tears, but his were red as well. "Let's get you into bed."

She didn't protest. He carried her to their room, to the bed, gently laid her down and then snuggled in as well. In Lily's mind, however, a struggle was held. She had to tell him—she _had _to. Postponing it would only make the outcome worse once it got out. But how much bad news could James take in such little time?

Life was so short, so, _so _frail.

So, just as he asked, "Are you okay?" she simultaneously said "James, I'm pregnant," and clenched her eyes shut, unwilling to watch his reaction.

Silence. A lot of silence. Then a sigh.

"That's great."

He sounded relieved. Lily cracked open one eye, and narrowed it in confusion once she caught James' smile.

"Did you actually catch that?" she asked in disbelief. "I said pregnant, James. Like, with a baby."

He rolled his eyes. "I know what pregnant means, Lily."

"Then how is that 'great'?"

"I just spent some horrid three weeks watching you _live _in the toilet and thinking you're—well," at her confused look, he admitted: "Pregnant was my second guess."

"Oh, great," she scoffed. "And you couldn't have asked me and made everything easier, could you? I can't believe you already knew."

"I wasn't _certain _of it, since it looks like you've made it your mission to hide it from me," he jokingly smacked the top of her head. "But Lily, I thought your common sense was still in here."

She gave him one of her best, genuine confused looks. He chuckled.

"Lily, do you happen to remember where I go to work?"

Finger mid-air, she paused. Slowly: "The one bloody hospital in wizarding London."

At that, James burst into genuine, loud laughter, and Lily resisted the urge to smack his arms several times just so he would stop.

"I panicked, alright?" she exclaimed, but this only served to induce more laughter. "I really thought you'd be upset about it—and—and—"

James stopped quite suddenly. "Wait, upset?"

"Yes, upset," she repeated, snuggling further under the warm covers and shifting so her head was now at a level with his. "We _are _in the middle of a war, after all. No place for children," she paraphrased what she'd heard at least twenty times after the Longbottoms announced.

James closed his eyes, sighing. "Is this about the talk we had about Alice and Frank expecting? That's why you were being so quiet?"

After a while, she replied: "No," then when he opened his eyes again, "Partly."

"Lily…" he groaned, reaching out to brush the hair off her face. "Just because I think the timing could be better doesn't mean I'm not happy. Sure I won't jump up and down in excitement right now, I mean," he pursed his lips, which were already quirking up. "It probably wouldn't do the bed too much good, and considering…" he trailed off, and a dull twinge of pain hit her in the form of Marlene's smile. "But I'm happy. I'm really, really happy."

"Then," she started, barely above a whisper. "It's okay to be happy?"

"It's perfectly fine to be happy," he whispered back, and finally let himself smile.

Lily smiled back, hesitantly.

And then, a small voice in her mind said it was night. It was bedtime, and Lily was well aware she wouldn't be sleeping that night, just as she hadn't slept the night before. Godric's Hallow was silent, all she could hear was the sound of their breathing and the beats of their hearts. The misery washed over her in waves, and waves, but the tears wouldn't fall.

Marlene would've been happy for them.

"Have you thought about names?" James said rather suddenly, breaking the silence and her train of thoughts.

She was confused for a fraction of a second, "Names?"

"For the kid."

Bless him for giving her the perfect distraction.

"Oh," she sat up brusquely, startling both her husband and herself.

Guiltily grimacing down at him, she signaled for him to wait with a finger and started rummaging through the drawer. James was watching her the whole time, looking rather amused, and she pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment, smoothening out the creases.

Her husband raised an eyebrow, "For how long exactly have you been hiding this from me?"

"Not that long," she assured him, rolling her eyes. "Do you want to hear names or not?"

Propping himself up with an elbow, "I'm all ears."

She lit up the lamp with a flick of her wand and her eyes—tired, blood red but restless—scanned the piece of parchment.

"For a girl, I've thought," she swallowed a lump in her throat. _Marlene… _"I've thought about Annabelle."

She heard her snort from her right; she narrowed her eyes at James.

He had the nerve to look unaffected. "Lily, I love you. But I refuse to give my daughter a name that's probably the one of an old lady who knits sweaters for cats."

"My grandmother's name was Annabelle," Lily gaped at him, visibly offended.

He didn't look any more fazed. "Exactly."

They spent the night bickering and kissing and talking about names, but never, never the ones of their late, dear friends.

There were always some things better left unsaid. In secrets, in tension, in war.

* * *

- Blair, crossed out, then in messy handwriting: Rethink this one

- Daniel, crossed out with a thicker stroke

- Annabelle, encircled, crossed out with a thicker stroke, rewritten, crossed out

- Helen?, then crossed out

- Jonathan?, crossed out

- Benjamin, crossed out, then rewritten, and now just a large black blob on the parchment

- Mary, and in smaller font—unlikely, then crossed out

- Harold, crossed out with a thicker stroke

- Lily II, crossed out several times

- James II, crossed out even more viciously

Across a corner of the parchment: _James, if your next suggestion will be Sirius, Remus or Peter, I'm kicking you out._

* * *

"Damn."

Three days later, Sirius Black stood at their table in the kitchen, looking at Lily as if she had grown a second head.

"Damn," he repeated, slowly, before taking a generous gulp of Butterbeer—James had put their purchase of Firewhiskey on hold for the time being.

Lily scowled at him, her eyebrow quirking.

"Sirius, I'm sorry, but did you come here just to gawk at me and drink all our Butterbeer?"

Sirius turned his head to look at James, who was smiling good-naturedly, "Is she supposed to be this cranky yet?"

"I don't know, mate," he admitted. "You did only gawk at her and drink our Butterbeer since you arrived."

"I'm still here, you two," she called out, sarcastically.

Sirius leaned back in his chair and looked at her for one long minute. Then he asked, "How did this happen?"

James cleared his throat. "Well, when a man and a woman love each other very, very much—"

Lily smirked, just as Sirius narrowed his eyes at his best friend.

"Don't be an arse. I mean," he put down his Butterbeer and let his chair fall back in place. "Not that long ago, we were talking about how inconvenient this thing with Frank and Alice is and then you two go and shag each other senseless and do the same thing?"

"Actually," Lily interrupted, her irritation growing, but her confidence also faltering. "I found out before Frank and Alice announced. I only told James this week."

She tried her hardest not to think about the events that led to her sudden courage for the confession, but one small part of her couldn't help screaming of the war and wishing Marlene had been there, at the same table, giving her approval and her favourite baby names.

Sirius' eyes visibly softened. Then something seemed to drawn upon him.

"And all that talk we had about Frank and Alice," he trailed off, and Lily nodded with a shrug. He then cringed. "That must've been awkward."

"You don't say," Lily agreed, taking a sip from her own mug. Pumpkin Juice. She scowled. "Really, James. Really?" she whined, looking up at her husband and his sizzling frying pan.

"Pumpkin Juice is good for you," he said, simply.

"That's _all _I've been drinking as of late, besides water. _Please. _One Butterbeer wouldn't—"

"Lily, I wasn't aware The Daily Prophet gives you a daily lecture about pregnancy," he replied off-handedly, dropping a serving of bacon onto his and Sirius' plates.

Hers remained mercilessly empty.

"Seriously?" she didn't even bother looking at Sirius to silence him in case he was even considering the pun. James' smile didn't waver one bit. Shaking her head, "I hate you."

"No you don't," James replied, simply, lowering himself to kiss her cheek before leaving to possibly search a healthier substitute for bacon.

She looked at his retreating form, her arms folded and scoffing in resignation. Disrupting the silence, Sirius asked through a mouthful:

"Do I get to be godfather?"

Lily shifted her head to look at him, taking him in with his cheeks stuffed with bacon and still insisting on leaning the chair backwards until he was risking a fall. This was James Potter's best friend, and a fixture in her life since she was seventeen. This was the same bloke who got himself landed in detention for not being able to resist talking back to professor Slughorn, or making an inappropriate comment to professor McGonagall. This was also the bloke who fought with them side-by-side and deflected a number of curses flying her way, and the best man at their wedding who refused to let the mood drop even if he ended up drinking too much and nearly wrecking the cake.

He wasn't her first choice for a godfather, of course. But he would be James', and above being a tad reckless, she knew Sirius Black was kind, brave, and would love the child like his own.

So she smiled warmly, and gave him a shrug. It was almost amusing how fast he took it as acceptance, even if it really was.

"Good. So I get a say in the kid's name," he started, looking rather excited, just as James returned to their table.

He exchanged her plate for a bowl and poured what looked like a very healthy mixture of vegetables in it, completely disregarding her pleading expression. Then he sat himself down, looking at Sirius with a quizzical glance.

"Got any ideas?"

"Yes, Sirius, do tell," Lily insisted, stirring at her vegetables with a very sour look. "James' are horrible."

James a mockingly hurt look her way, and Lily sent him one that hopefully conveyed 'This is what you get for making me eat healthy'. Yesterday, too, she had tried to ditch the food he had prepared in favour of something more sensible to her taste buds, but had found the ingredients held under clever, but harmless spells and jinxes, whose general outcome consisted mostly of having her unable to use her wand against them. Needless to say, she was not at all pleased with her husband.

"Elvendork."

Both Potters looked at each other in confusion, then at Sirius.

"Sorry?" asked Lily.

"Elvendork. It's unisex."

And so much for praising Sirius Black.

* * *

- Blair, crossed out, then in messy handwriting: Rethink this one, crossed out again

- Daniel, crossed out with a thicker stroke

- Annabelle, encircled, crossed out with a thicker stroke, rewritten, crossed out

- Helen?, then crossed out

- Jonathan?, crossed out

- Benjamin, crossed out, then rewritten, and now just a large black blob on the parchment

- Mary, and in smaller font—unlikely, then crossed out

- Harold, crossed out with a thicker stroke

- Lily II, crossed out several times

- James II, crossed out even more viciously

- Sirius, in calligraphy, then crossed out and next to it: _Please don't make me reconsider naming you godfather._

- Eleanor ?

- Gregory? crossed out

- Rosemary, in messy handwriting

- Nicholas

- Almost illegible and as if the pen was subjected to a wrestling match: Elvendork, crossed out several times

- Richard

- Harry?


	2. Harry

_**Harry**_

* * *

Nearly nine months in, Lily Evans could safely say she wished for many things, but this was not one of them.

She felt horrible, absolutely horrible, and she made sure to act equally as horrible to everybody because why should they deserve to feel well? They didn't have nausea, food cravings, nasty mood swings, and infernal pains to keep them grounded, and not to mention a child ready to rip her stomach open. She did absolutely not sign up for this.

The only person she could stomach being around was Alice Longbottom, who knew just as well, if not better, that pregnancy, be it during a war or not, was no reason for joy. She had already driven poor Frank into despair until she had him catering to her every need.

James was being uncommonly patient with her. Lily had lost her patience with him a long, long time ago.

"I want deep fried chicken legs with custard and tomato sauce," she whined to him that mid-afternoon as she lay on top of their shared bed, something that, lately, she only stopped doing when she was in need of a bathroom break. "I _need _deep fried chicken legs with custard and tomato sauce," she corrected herself, tugging at her husband's sleeve.

James sat down on a corner of the bed, next to her, looking rather amused, in spite of the still healing gash he was sporting on his left cheek. She frowned; after a resounding victory for the Order, both the battles and the casualties have been getting less frequent, and the injuries had grown steadily less serious. But Dumbledore had told them—this wasn't right, nor was it accidental. Day by day, the lack of injuries, the lack of deaths was growing more and more unsettling.

Somewhere out there, Voldemort was crafting them a trap.

And even so, Lily couldn't help but think, he would have to settle with being priority number two, because the very first thing she needed to do was get this bloody _thing_ out or so help her.

"Okay," he finally said, and Lily's mood perked up. "How about we do this? Instead of deep fried chicken, I'll bring you a big, tasty bowl of porridge."

He gesticulated hopefully, looking rather pleased with himself. Lily gave him the darkest of glares.

"As soon as this is over, I'm leaving you," she announced stiffly, and pointedly turned her head away from James.

He chuckled. Soon, she could feel the warmth of him arms all around her and the pressure of his lips on the top of her head.

"Now, Lily, I know you're probably a little tired and a bit irritable—"

"Do you _really_ want to go there?"

"—and I'm probably not really making this easier for you—"

"Understatement of the _century._"

"—but after our child—"

"You mean _my _child, because I don't see _you _carrying it."

"—is born and healthy, you're going to thank me for not letting you eat deep fried chicken—"

"You really aren't going to get me any deep fried chicken, are you?" she interrupted him, looking rather resentful.

"None at all," James confirmed, looking unaffected by her displeased tone. "Wait… Lily, what are you—"

Shrugging to herself, Lily pressed her palms to the bed and pushed hard, so she was sitting upright. To James' disbelieving eyes, she clumsily put her feet on the ground and rose—until she left a pair of arms gently pulling her back.

"Lily, you're in your last two weeks," James sighed, and the redhead lazily draped herself back onto the bed. "I'm doing this for your own good."

She was well aware he was right. Of course, James worked at St. Mungo's, and Lily knew enough about deep fried chicken to know it was not healthy, neither for her and nor for the child inside her. That, and she would probably vomit it all out. Still, she really, _really _wanted that chicken, so she abandoned her honest methods of persuasion.

"_Frank _lets Alice eat whatever she wants," she told him, pulling her lips into a pouty frown.

He, however, humoured her in his best serious tone: "Terribly sorry he wasn't here to propose to you first. Would you like some tea instead?"

"James…" she whined, looking up at him with big, sad eyes. "Why are you doing this to me?"

"Because I love you, of course, so I wouldn't want you to have indigestion," he replied, promptly, and started stroking her hair. With an afterthought, "And because I'm awful with everything else."

Indeed, James seemed to be rather disastrous at everything that included housekeeping. It wasn't like his help was usually needed, anyway, so during her first months of pregnancy, when she could move without feeling like she was carrying a very heavy rock around, there have been absolutely no problems—the existence of charms, of course, and Lily's talent for them had done a good lot of help, too. Chaos ensured when Lily got steadily bigger and James insisted she shouldn't strain herself with chores. She had tried to assure him that, despite the fact moving was a bit more difficult, getting up was a real pain, and the occasional stomach kicking was a true inconvenience, she was completely fine with doing chores and that it would keep her from feeling bored. He was so stubborn that she gave up.

For two weeks, she would occasionally hear:

"Shit!"

"Son of a—"

"Oh, no, no, _no_! Reparo!"

"Please, please—Noo!"

"Fuck."

"Sweet baby Merlin."

"Why!?"

Lily would guilty chuckle and shout: "Everything alright out there?"

"Yeah, don't worry. I'm fine."

When he nearly broke his arm while doing the dishes, Lily decided they'd both had enough and, despite James' blatant disapproval and exclamations of 'I can handle it, really', she took over the household chores.

It was sort of nice to see him finally acknowledge that, no, he was actually not good at housekeeping.

She did, however, feel rather bad for James and assured him: "That's not true. You also do a very fine back massage. "

"And I'm sure that career will do wonderfully in the wizarding world," he replied, jokingly. "Actually, I'd do some pretty nifty offers. Pay for one massage—get one for your cat, or broom, or annoying cousin."

Lily giggled, reaching out to grasp his hand into hers. This was James, and they were married, and there were having a baby. All around them, there was war and disorder and unhappiness but it was so hard to focus on anything beyond four walls and make themselves unhappy for the sake of others, even if it should've been possible.

"James?"

He was smiling, lazily tracing circles on her hand with his thumb. "Hm?"

"I love you," she mumbled, because she'd heard enough of war and so little about love.

For a moment, he looked at her. He really looked at her, and there was so much emotion in his eyes and so many words he wasn't saying. Then his smile widened.

"I know. I'm pretty amazing."

Laughing, she let go of his hand to playfully smack his arm.

"You prat. You just couldn't _help _ruining the moment, could you?" she asked him, her laughter slowly fading to giggles

He gave her the smile—that one she was used to receive during the days he still played Quidditch and came to see her after a long practice session; then he bent down and kissed her.

"I love you too," he murmured against her lips. She smiled.

He pulled away only slightly—their foreheads were touching. There were times she forgot how wonderful it felt, having these small moments of affection between everything tiresome and every frustration they had in life. And there were also times when she used these moments to her avantage.

"James," she began sweetly, widening her eyes for effect. "Could I have some chicken now?"

She had effectively managed to ruin the mood, of course. James looked at her for one long minute and then sighed in resignation.

"Don't come complaining to me if you feel ill later," he warned, but the corners of Lily's mouth went up at his indirect confirmation.

James pulled away and broke the contact between them, then rose from his spot on her bed. She sent a very grateful though also self-satisfied smile his way.

"You know I_ really_ love you, right?" she added, for good measure.

He gave her a pointed look, "Save that for later if I'll have to hold your hair while you vomit."

She rolled her eyes, watching his retreating form. Finally, her strong desire for deep fried chicken, a dish she'd never been fond of, she reckoned, would be fulfilled. Her stomach gave a lurch of hunger—and her abdomen a lasting, uncomfortable pain.

She cringed, wishing for what seemed like the hundredth time for this to _end _already, and swearing to herself there was no way anyone would ever convince her to go through this again. On the ridiculous thought that James wanted more children, she decided she would buy him a pet instead—maybe a cat. A cat would be lovely, and would not cause so much physical pain.

After a while of listening to the noises coming from the kitchen and James' footsteps as he wandered around the house in search for ingredients, she vaguely realised she had to go to the toilet. Getting up was not an easy mission, and the pain in her lower region—fake contractions, she assured herself—did not make the trip any more easier. On the way back though, she was just about to climb back into bed when she felt liquid dribbling down her legs.

Oh, fantastic. She had actually peed herself.

She cringed, slowly turning around to go back to the bathroom and wipe herself clean. And then, just as suddenly, she froze.

She had just come _back _from the bathroom.

Oh, _Merlin_.

"James!"

* * *

A million thoughts ran through his brain at once. Lily had injured herself. Lily had forgotten to tell him to use a certain ingredient. Lily needed something.

What he found, however, when he all but suddenly appeared in the doorway, was Lily awkwardly standing by her bed, clutching her stomach and looking down at it.

Something had happened to the baby.

"What?" he asked, urgently.

In Lily's brain, there was only one thought, constantly repeating and altering itself. _That was my water. My water broke._

_My water broke!_

Then the growing pains in her abdominal region remembered her exactly why that thought was important, and why James was here.

"James, I think it's coming out."

She directed her eyes, wide with shock and realisation to her husband. To her further surprise, he was white as chalk.

"What do you mean… out?"

"I mean, out," she clutched her stomach and cringed. "Out of me. The baby's coming."

That had safely reduced James to a sputtering mess, "But—but it's tw-two weeks before you're due."

"Well, yeah, I guess so," her face contorted in pain. "Could you just—"

"But it can't come out right now," he exclaimed, rather stupidly.

Lily was quickly growing frustrated with him. "You try and tell that to the baby while I go get the Floo Powder."

That seemed to snap him back to his senses. "You can't travel by Floo! It's dangerous!"

"Are you offering to take me for a side-along Apparition?" she asked, dryly, gesturing to her large frame.

"…I'll go get the Powder."

The pain was getting gradually stronger. Although she would normally feel horrified to even consider such thoughts, she couldn't help thinking that if the Cruciatus Curse was at least half as bad as a pregnancy, it was really no wonder that some people these days considered the Killing Curse merciful.

James was taking too long, she realised, so she struggled to get to the doorframe and peek her head out, looking down the hall, to see him… writing on multiple pieces of parchment.

She was this close to killing him, she swore.

"Oh, just send one to Sirius," she snapped, making him jump and turn his head around to look at her. "He'll go out of his way to tell the whole bloody England, anyway."

"Good point," he nodded, discarding his quill and picking up one already written piece. Then he went to the open window and tactfully started to tie the letter to the owl's foot.

_Oh, sodding hell._

"I don't mean to rush you, but I'm _giving birth_," she reminded him, grimacing at the arrival of another set of—Merlin's beard, the _pain._

"I'll be just—Erm," then he clumsily finished and dismissed the owl.

By the time they reached St. Mungo's, Lily had started thinking the Cruciatus Curse looked quite merciful.

* * *

"This is all your fault."

"Shh, it's okay. Push. It will be over soon, alright?"

"Don't tell me what to dooo—owww. This is horrible. I'm never having kids again—"

"Now, let's not—"

"_Never._"

"Alright, Lily. Just push. You can do it."

"Shut up, shut _up_! You're not helping—ow, bloody _hell_—at…at all!"

"There you go, that's it. Push."

"If you open your mouth one more time I'll push your skull against that wall."

"Mr. Potter, I think it would be wiser if you left."

* * *

He was beautiful. That was the one way Lily could describe him, the moment she saw her baby. She'd cried faster than he did, overwhelmed by so much emotion, and tiredness and the relief of it all being over. Then they'd brought him a bundle of cloth, and he'd opened his eyes—Lily's eyes, a brilliant green, staring back at her, uncomprehendingly and possibly wondering about the strange woman.

Harry James Potter.

"He's beautiful," James voiced her thoughts, and she found herself startled, but oddly unresponsive.

"Yeah," she tried to acknowledge, but it came out croaky and barely intelligible. "He's—he has your hair," she blurted out, looking pointedly at the small tuft of black hair on top of his head.

James laughed, prompting Lily to do the same. Over the years, the infamous Potter hair had often served as the subject of many jokes, most of them initiated by Sirius.

The same Sirius that, not only five minutes after Harry was carried away and James was preparing to let Lily have her rest, burst inside the room, complete with a sack of oranges and some flowers.

Behind him, Remus was shaking his head in what seemed like both amusement and embarrassment.

"You're alive!" he exclaimed with a grin in Lily's direction, and strode proudly towards her bed.

"Oh, no. Absolutely _not!" _they heard, and the fussy Healer who had advised James to leave during the actual birthing came into the picture. "Mrs. Potter needs her rest. No time for visitors."

She snatched away the gift from Sirius' hands as he watched, dumbfounded, and set them on the table.

Sirius seemed to come back to his senses, "I'm sorry, but I don't think you understand. We're her _family. _She wants us here," then, for good measure, and over the shoulder of the Healer who had already started to force him out, "Don't you, Lily?"

And in that moment, Mary Macdonald's face appeared in the doorway. She waved uncertainly at Lily, and urged her boyfriend—awkwardly standing by her side—to do the same.

"A couple minutes won't hurt me," she said, rather reluctantly, to the Healer.

She flared up. "It is not recommended—"

"You've heard the patient," Sirius spoke over her, eagerly pushing past towards the Potters.

Remus threw the Healer an apologetic look. "I'm really sorry. Rest assured we won't be long," he glanced at Sirius, "and he'll behave."

The Healer scowled at him, "Fifteen minutes," and brusquely walked off.

Mary rushed to her friend's side, looking rather windswept. "I just got the owl. Are you okay? How was it?"

Lily could still feel the sweat trickling down her back. "To be honest… I think it was on the same scale with a Cruciatus."

Mary paled visibly, and her head instantly whirled towards the doorframe.

"You've been practising the contraceptive spells, right?"

Sirius snorted loudly. Her boyfriend had already put a palm over his face. "Oh my God, _Mary._"

She blushed visibly, but continued: "I'm serious. There's absolutely no way—"

"We're not having this discussion," then he turned to Lily, clearing his throat. "So, is it a boy or a girl?"

Everyone but James seemed to have remembered their real reason for visiting and was eagerly awaiting her response.

"A boy," she answered, and next to her, she could imagine James beaming proudly.

"He has her eyes," he added, and Lily felt him reaching for her fingers.

She clasped her hand around his, tightly. That's right, it was over. They'd both done it. They'd brought life to the world—somehow, Lily felt like this was a bigger accomplishment than defeating the Dark Lord, something she hadn't really thought about in a long time.

And now they had one more reason to keep hoping.

"What's his name?" asked Mary with a wide smile on her face.

"Elvendork," Sirius replied before they had the chance to, through mouthfuls of orange.

Remus snorted in laughter—they had introduced him to the list a little while after Sirius had found out—but the other two occupants of the room looked at them in complete confusion.

"It's _Harry_," Lily patiently corrected with a smile. "Harry James Potter."

"I'm the godfather," Sirius quipped almost instantly.

Mary looked at Lily, incredulously, before her features contoured into something far more serious.

"Did he drug you?"

"Really nice, Macdonald," the bloke in question drawled, sarcastically.

Mary looked like she was about to retort, but then a sudden jumble of very loud, agitated footsteps and an anxious voice was heard from the direction of the hall. The noises drew nearer and nearer, until they reached the door; they stopped, but only for a millisecond.

The door opened and Peter burst in, looking rather breathless. He smiled at them, and with a wave, collapsed on a chair next to Lily's bed.

"Hey," he greeted. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired," she admitted, and then pointedly looked around. "Which reminds me that it's only a matter of time before the Healer comes back and throws you lot out, so I'd say you'd better leave out of free will."

They spent their last few minutes filling Peter in and letting him catch his breath, but then Lily nearly fell asleep mid-sentence, waking up only when James lightly shook her to bid her goodnight.

Mary closed the visit with the announcement that she would buy Lily a huge basket of chocolate, and Sirius said he'd bring firewhiskey, which she politely declined just as the Healer entered the room and shot them a rather reproachful look.

"What took you so long, Wormtail?" James asked his friend when they were on their way out. "I sent that owl at least an hour ago."

"Oh, you know," he seemed rather disgruntled, giving him a snide look. "Some _idiot _in Godric's Hollow left chicken cooking on the stove."

James Potter could safely say he'd known from the start that the chicken was a bad idea.

* * *

_Dear Petunia,_

_How are you doing? How's Vernon? We haven't spoken in such a long time. I wish you could've made it to the wedding, but I guess I shouldn't have set my expectations too high after the impression James made._

_He's sending his most honest apologies to Vernon, by the way. He hadn't meant to offend him._

_I'm actually writing to tell you I gave birth recently. I guess I thought you would at least want to know that you've got a nephew. _

_His name is Harry. I hope you'll get to see him someday—all of us, actually, if you want to._

_I'm not really expecting a reply, but it'd be nice if you took time to tell me you've at least read this._

_I really miss you, Tuney._

_Love, _

_Lily._


End file.
